


Chekov Gets a Concussion

by katmarajade



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Concussions, Exactly What It Says on the Tin, Fretting Sulu, Gen, M/M, Stubborn Navigators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-11 15:44:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2073837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katmarajade/pseuds/katmarajade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The title kinda says it all... Chekov shows up to his shift with a concussion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chekov Gets a Concussion

Chekov stepped onto the bridge that morning looking irritable and ill. Sulu frowned at his navigator,

"Chekov, are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I'm fine. Just a headache."

"Must be quite the headache."

"Chekov!" Kirk called over from his chair. "Man, are you hungover? You look terrible."

"I am not hungover." Chekov looked slightly offended by the suggestion, "In Russia we do not get hung over. We can hold our drink. But no, I was not drinking at all. I am not hungover. I just have a headache."

"Looks like a hell of a headache."

"Yes," Chekov frowned and stared at his vid screen, where the numbers seemed to be swimming around oddly. "I think there's something wrong with this vid screen, Keptin."

Sulu glanced over at the screen, seeing nothing immediately wrong about it. Kirk sauntered over and examined the screen.

"Looks fine to me, Ensign. What's the problem."

"These numbers are switching and…" Chekov blinked rapidly, fighting back a bout of nausea.

"There's nothing wrong with the screen, Chekov. But I think we should have Bones take a look at you. Are you ill? Did you hit your head?" Kirk had his concerned captain face on and it made Sulu nervous. He was glad that Kirk was pushing Chekov to go see the doctor though.

"I am not ill. And I may have… well, it is not important. Not affecting me."

"May have what, Ensign? What happened? If it affects you and your performance, then it is important. Tell me." Chekov balked at the undercurrent of authority that Kirk just threw at him.

"Keptin, I was helping Commander Scott with something down in Engineering. We hoisted Mr. Keenser up to fix a connection—to pound a peg back into the retainer, where it was loose. Mr. Keenser slipped and we tried to catch him, but he fell very hard onto Commander Scott. But the hammer he was using fell also onto my head. But it is not so bad. I was only knocked out for a few seconds and, see, I am fine. No problems."

"Why didn't Scotty make you go down to Medical?"

"Oh, well, I don't think he noticed that the hammer fell. He was very worried about Mr. Keenser who might have broken something. Commander Scott and Mr. Keenser went to Medical Bay, but I had to hurry up and come here for my shift."

"Damn it, Chekov." Kirk strode back to his console where he palmed the communicator, calling down to Medical.

Sulu jumped up, grabbing the emergency flashlight under the console. He flared the beam of light into Chekov's eyes, making Chekov whine.

"What are you doing? Stop that! You crazy pilot. Sit down and fly the ship and stop flashing bright lights in my eyes when my head hurts!"

"I'm checking to see whether your pupils are equal and reactive."

"Yes, I know what you are doing. I am saying it is unnecessary and annoying and to stop right now. You are not a doctor, Sulu!"

"Well, actually…"

"Oh, shut up. You have a doctorate in astrophysics. If I have a supernova in my brain, you may help me. But unless you've secretly completed a course of study in neurology along with your stars and plants, leave me alone! Do your job, Sulu."

Chekov looked extremely irritated, and punched off a flashing caution light on the console. He batted away Sulu's hands and rubbed at his face, which was prickling in a most annoying fashion.

Sulu looked torn between hovering over Chekov and going back to his station, where he really needed to be running the mid-warp diagnostics. Kirk made the decision easier on him.

"Sulu. Man the helm. Chekov, you're relieved."

"Sir! That is not necessary."

"I'm the captain and I say that our eighteen year old genius navigator getting beamed in the head with a hammer makes it necessary. Get your ass down to sickbay, Ensign." Chekov immediately stood, nodded to Kirk, and closed out his station. Sulu could see from Chekov's tight lips and twitching eyebrows that the navigator was not happy with the situation.

"Damnit, Chekov! You're a navigator not a construction worker." Dr. McCoy strode onto the bridge wielding a tri-corder and a potent glare. Chekov silently allowed the doctor to run the tri-corder around his head, glaring at Sulu all the while, as if Sulu had put the doctor up to this.

"You've definitely got a concussion, Chekov. A nasty one at that. Bet your head is pounding, huh?"

Chekov nodded.

"Nausea, tingling skin, dizziness?" Chekov nodded curtly to all three and Dr. McCoy rolled his eyes.

"Stupid teenagers! You all think you're invulnerable." Dr. McCoy muttered as he dug out a hypospray and jabbed it into Chekov's neck. "You're relieved from duty—don't even argue with me. You need to rest and we'll make sure someone is present to wake you up every few hours tonight. We need that gigantic brain of yours after all. Next time, don't be stupid." The CMO stalked off the bridge.

"Chekov, go rest. I'll get a replacement up here for you—and Sulu actually. Sulu, make sure Mr. I'm-Too-Tough-To-Get-A-Brain-Injury gets woken up every couple hours and is coherent. I've had more than a couple concussions myself, so I'm pretty much an authority on this." Kirk sounded weirdly proud of his past head injuries, like hurting his brain was something to be nostalgic about.

Sulu glanced worriedly between the extremely put out navigator and the helm, but felt better as a back up helm crew came hurtling onto the bridge, gasping for breath. They were clearly excited to log helm time directly under Captain Kirk. Sulu signed over his console and promptly dragged a mumbling Chekov to his room.

Chekov pouted, making no end of comments on how ridiculous everyone was acting over this. Sulu just gave him a look but stayed silent. He watched the navigator putter about the room making derisive comments about overreactions and then staring blankly at one of his models like he'd momentarily forgotten what it did.

When Chekov finally agreed to lie down for a bit, he gave Sulu this news as if he were just patronizing his assigned watcher. Sulu let him maintain his act, seeing the exhaustion and confusion underneath Chekov's bravado.

Chekov fell asleep within moments, which was rare for the genius boy whose brain never shut up, showing just how much his body needed the rest, whatever Chekov said to the contrary.

Sulu watched Chekov sleep and wondered, not for the first time, just what went on in that crazy head of his. It baffled him how someone could be so mind-bogglingly intelligent and so damn stupid all at the same time. The kid drove him mad—he was brash and rude and dismissive of other people's opinions. He was ridiculously stubborn and proud and pushy and annoying. Sulu catalogued all the annoying things about his fellow helmsman and the list was pretty impressive.

An hour later, he woke up Chekov to make sure he was still all right. Chekov smiled sleepily up at him and said quietly, his voice still groggy with sleep and his accent even more pronounced than usual,

"I'm still here, Hikaru. I am still Pavel and I am still smarter than you. Now let me sleep, please."

Sulu let him turn over and fall back into his genius dreamworld. Yeah, Chekov was annoying and rude and a bit of a bastard really, but he was also brilliant and beautiful and passionate and loyal. And if people thought he was overconfident, well, those people probably had never really gotten to know Chekov. He was smarter than anyone else on the ship, except possibly Spock, and could come up with and do things that most other people could not even comprehend. It might seem like overconfidence or conceit to someone whose brain worked on an average to slightly above average level, but for Chekov, it was simply reality. He knew exactly what amazing things his brain was capable of, and he had no patience for anyone who expected anything less from him.

Sulu shook his head slightly as he gazed at his sleeping, concussed friend. Annoying. Overbearing. Rude. Shockingly stupid when it came to the more mundane things in life. And Sulu didn't think he had ever liked anyone better.

He bit his lip, thinking that perhaps this twisting in his belly could be telling him that there might be something more than friendship there. Sulu just brushed the curls off Chekov's forehead, shook his head self-deprecatingly, and settled into the armchair across the room with an old helm log and a bit of a smile.

Chekov would wake up later, brain racing and full of its usual clever madness. And Sulu would be right there waiting for him.


End file.
